A Million Fireflies | A Hunger Games x KOTLC Fanfiction

Chapter 3

I wake up in a cold sweat, somehow the thick duvet has tangled around me. More nightmares. Nightmares about the arena. About what will happen in the arena. What will happen to me.

Effie Trinket chatters away as we eat breakfast. Scratch that. I didn't eat a thing. It was more like sitting there with Errol and Effie as they "subtly" avoid the subject of the Hunger Games. But they can't put it off forever.

Effie reluctantly explains to us what will happen in the minutes leading up to the Games. We'll take a ride in a hovercraft that's taking us to the arena, where they'll give us our special arena suits and inject trackers into our body. I am not looking forward to that. I've never liked doctors, let alone needles. Now it's Dex's turn to squeeze my hand encouragingly.

An few hours later, we're waving our goodbyes to Effie and Errol. Effie looks close to tears, and Errol just looks depressed. I can't blame him. It must be awful mentoring innocent children and then watch them die in the arena.

We enter our small metal rooms for the last minute of being not in the arena. I'm accompanied by Trevor. I think Dex is also with his stylist. He helps me adjust the traditional red and black bodysuit that all tributes have in the arena and talks to me soothingly.

"Do you have a special token?" he asks.

I nod my head yes and finger the carved black swan hanging around my neck. Trevor smiles. "Of course."
My eyes start to water. No crying, I scold, but despite my efforts, slippery tears slide down my cheeks.
"I just want to live, Trevor," I whisper. "How can they do this? Hurt innocent children for entertainment?"
Trevor hugs me, no words escaping his lips. I think he's. . . crying.

A voice comes over the loudspeaker right on cue, and I step into the tribute tube. A capsule that will lift me up into the arena.

Slowly the curved glass panels close around me and claustrophobia hits me.

Full-on panic mode turns on. I spin in a circle and then start banging on the glass. "No, wait!" I scream. "Wait! I'm not ready! Don't make me do this!"

Trevor looks confused and worried. I realise he can't hear me, only see my face through the glass. The tribute tube starts going up slowly. I hunch down as the capsule goes up, trying to stay in the same place. Maybe they'll let me out.

"Let me out!" I cry. "Please, I can't do this! I can't do this!"

Trevor doesn't seem to notice my panic and gently smiles encouragingly. He gives me a thumbs up and then I can't see him anymore. The tube lifts up up up until the glass around me disappears, so only the platform underneath my feet is moving now. A gasp escapes my throat when I see the arena.

I'm on a pedestal now, as are the other tributes. They shape a circle around the Cornucopia.

Close to my pedestal. is a small empty flask and then a few steps later there's a flashlight on the ground.

The bounty increases in value as you get closer to the Cornucopia. Tools and food and weapons are scattered around.

I remember warnings from Errol and Trevor to not go into the Cornucopia, where all the bloodbath will be. But I can't leave empty handed. My eye catches on a small brown backpack lying next to a sharp knife several metres away.

I'm fast. I can get there easily. But who else has their eye on it? Who will I have to fight fo-

BANG!

I squeak in horror. My heart is pounding harder now.  One of the tributes has stumbled, or even stepped off his pedestal early.

Landmines surround each pedestal, ready to explode if any tribute tries to step off before the one-minute countdown finishes. I guess the poor boy from eight didn't know that.

I pull my eyes away from the ugly remains of the boy and glance at the countdown board. Twenty seconds.

I've made up my mind. I'm going to go for it.

I ready myself, getting into a running stance and training my eye on the bag and the knife.

I look at the countdown clock.

Ten seconds.

Five.

Three.

Two.

One.

BOOM.

The starter cannon shoots and I leap off the pedestal. As fast as my skinny legs will take me, I run to the brown bag. I begin to fret when I see a boy from District 9, I think, running towards it as well. Suddenly he falls and I see the arrow in the back of his head. My heart skips a beat. He's dead.

A boy just died in front of me.

But this is no time to cry.

I scoop up the bag and the knife and run. I'm not sure who killed him, but no one's pursuing me.

I run for ages. Running running running running.

After about an hour, I collapse. Exhaustion wins over and I lie in the foliage, panting. I don't know who's starring on the screens all over Panem right now. Probably not me. I bet the Cornucopia is still full of action right now. Every little while, I can hear a death cannon go off.

I wonder if Dex is still alive. If he was smart enough go straight into the woods. I myself probably should've left straight away. It wasn't smart to go into the middle of everything. There's a small wound on my arm from when an arrow whizzed by as I escaped the Cornucopia.

I decide this is a good time to check the brown bag. It was heavy on my back as I ran, which might just be a good sign.

I sit up quietly, hidden by the bushes. I pull open the backpack and peer inside. Covering the top layer of things inside the bag is - a jacket! A big, thick tramping jacket! Oh my god!

I pull it out and wrap it around me, sighing as my body starts to warm up. The sun is beginning to set, which means night. Night means cold.

I zip up the jacket and then sort through the contents of the rest of the bag. There's a water bottle, reminding me how thirsty I am. It's empty.

There's also packet of dried fruit strips, a belt, kind of like a holster, a set of batteries (for what, I'm not sure), and a small packet of matches (might come in handy). There are no bandages, dis-

appointingly enough.

I fish out the knife that I managed to scoop up before and examine it. It's serrated on one side, which will be good for chopping branches and stuff.

I nibble on one of the dried fruit strips. I'm so thirsty.

I silence myself, listening for the trickle of water. Nothing. The leaves I'm lying in are dry as well. Like it hasn't rained for quite a while.

The moon is now just visible over the horizon. I sling the backpack over my shoulder and scramble up a tree. I find a fork in the branches, close enough together so that I won't fall through. I curl up there, watching the sky. At night, the Capitols' anthem plays, and then the sky shows a picture and district number of each tribute that died today. After twenty minutes, the sky lights up and I hear the anthem.

Eagerly I look up only to see the face of the girl from 10, then both for the tributes from 9, the girl from 8, the boy from 8 who fell off the pedestal, the boy from 7, who I remember to be Jensi - a lively thirteen year old kid. I feel sad. He was too young.

Both tributes from 6 and the boy from 3 are then shown and the anthem cuts out.

Relief floods my mind when I realise Dex is alive. So is Fitz Vacker, and that little girl from 4 that I want to be allies with.

I shiver, not because of the cold, but because I'm scared. I'm really, really, really scared. I don't want to die in this hell. I don't want to kill innocent people. I'm so thirsty and tired, but too nervous to close my eyes, not wanting to be crept up on by some Career. But despite my efforts, I fall asleep.